The Master of Death
by Hostiel
Summary: Thanos' victory was so close he could taste it. The city around him was ash and rubble, its heroes crippled or dead. The final stone would soon be his—and then Death would be his. The Master of Death disagreed.


The heroes lay littered all around Thanos. Some were broken and bleeding. Most were worse. They had all been strong men and women—brave men and women—but none had been stronger than him. No one ever had been. No one ever would be—certainly not now.

He flexed his right hand. The Infinity Gauntlet had been stained red with the lifeblood of his enemies, but it still shone bright and golden. Five of the Infinity Stones softly glowed in the gauntlet. One slot remained unfilled—and yet he already felt so powerful. Unrivalled power coursed through him, hot in his veins.

Thanos relished the moment. Victory's taste never grew dull, not even after dozens of civilisations had died at his hand. Neither did war, noisy and bloody and glorious. There was no feeling quite like taking men's lives—no feeling quite like utter and complete superiority.

He looked around and wished for another man to step forward—another challenger. No one did. The bodies around him were deadly silent. He stood alone in the ruins of a once great city, on a once great world. Soon it would be another wasteland, left dust. Many worlds would share its fate.

Red already stained the sky—his power. It kept their nuclear ordinance and their armies of foot soldiers away from his chosen battleground. His soldiers would take care of them. He had not come here to fight the ordinary. Only the special ones. Defeating normal men was no great challenge and thus bore no great satisfaction. Tearing apart heroes, self-claimed gods, great men… it was a different matter entirely. It had to be done in person.

He crunched forward, through the rubble, towards the final stone, towards his destiny.

As he rounded a corner, he felt the air shift to his side. Quick as lightning, he shifted away from the attack's path and let the man dive past him and onto the ground.

The attacker came up in a roll, holding that red, white and blue shield of his. Scratches and dents marred its shining surface. Thanos smiled. A man so brave and stubborn was a rarity. Evolution had the habit of cutting such creatures from the gene pool, unless they had the power and intelligence to back their courage successfully.

"Captain America," he said. He spread his arms wide. "Is this not glorious? Does the song of war not sing through your veins? Does your heart not pump to its beat?"

Captain America coughed blood. "N-no! This-"

"This is the fate of the weak!" Thanos boomed. "This is nature! This is selection! This is death!"

Blood and smoke hung thick in the air. Thanos turned a slow circle, breathing them in, savouring them in his lungs. They were more delicious than any planet's delicacy.

"And yet, the future will be greater still." Thanos smiled. "Once I have the final stone, I will be all-powerful. I will be a god."

"There's only one God."

"Then where is he? Call to him—pray to him. Tell him that he has a challenger. Tell him that I am coming to tear him from his throne and cast him down to the depths of oblivion."

Captain America glared.

"No? Does he not answer you? Will he watch as I snap my fingers and give half of the universe to death?" Thanos laughed. "Perhaps your _god_ knows that I am right—knows that a balance must be brought about. Death is balance."

With a roar, Captain America charged, as though he had not seen hundreds of stronger men do the same and be cast aside.

Thanos waved his hand and Captain America was thrust up into the air, and then down and through the side of a building, deep into the rubble. When they fought Thanos, heroes died.

He walked on, following the path to the final stone. Its power signature shone like a beacon to him, guiding him through the smoke. It wanted him as badly as he wanted it.

He was surprised that he did not find it upon the very edge of the battlefield he had made. The man had not tried to escape, even as his comrades died around him by the dozen. Foolish—but respectable. Or perhaps he had simply already known that there was no escape, that his fate was sealed.

"Doctor Strange," Thanos said. "You are the last standing, I believe. Or, at least, the last who dares to face me."

Doctor Strange had his back turned to him. He had been the strongest of all of Thanos' foes. The sorcerer worked magics foreign even to him. But for all his _magic—_ all his _power—_ he had not been mighty enough to save his allies, and certainly not mighty enough to defeat Thanos.

"You want to bring Death to us, Thanos."

Thanos cocked his head. "I do."

Doctor Strange spun to stare at him with cold eyes, filled with a dark resolve. "I have called him," he said. "He will come." A dagger appeared in his hand, and he drove it straight into his own heart.

He did not break eye contact until his body collapsed limply to the floor, spilling blood.

Confusion had Thanos blinking. That was unexpected. It was not an illusion—of that he was sure. He had long since developed the ability to see through such things. But then what had happened? Had Strange sacrificed his life simply to confuse him? Was this some kind of joke? He could not feel the workings of a spell.

He resolved not to let the matter bother him any longer. Fate could not be left waiting. He moved forward to collect the Infinity Stone from Strange's body.

As he neared it, a figure shifted into existence in front of him. It wore a cloak of shimmering darkness, with a hood so deeply shadowed that he could not see anything under it but a pair of ancient and ancient green eyes staring at him.

A chill ran through Thanos. "Who are you?"

The figure slowly reached up with snow-white hands to pull back his hood. Dark, messy hair was the first thing to be unveiled. It hung over a face pale as a ghost's, with cheeks so sunken he looked more corpse than man.

Thanos cocked his head. "I do not know you."

"But I know you," the man said. "Thanos. Mad Titan. Leader of the Chitauri." His lips curled in ugly imitation of a smile. "Dark Lord."

"Will you not identify yourself before you die?"

"I will not die."

A smile crept onto Thanos' lips and power rushed through him once again. He leapt into the air and came crashing down on where the man had been standing not milliseconds earlier. His impact shook the ground.

Thanos rose slowly, turning. "You hide, like a coward."

"I do not hide."

Thanos spun and the man stood there. He now held a stick of knotted wood in his hand, just over a foot in length. Shadows flickered, stretching towards it and the black stone set in the ring on the man's finger. The man did not move; he simply watched Thanos with a blank face, as his dark hair and darker cloak fluttered in a breeze that did not exist.

Something foreign crept up Thanos' spine. He could no longer feel the last Infinity Stone's presence. Deep in the back of his mind, he recognised that the feeling was fear. He could not remember the last time he had feared anyone—anything.

"I shall give you one more chance to identify yourself." His words came out confidently, but he somehow knew he was no longer in control of the situation.

"You know me, Thanos," the man said. "Everyone does. Some do not want to see me for what I am, so they do not."

The air was cold—colder than the vacuum of space. Colder than anything Thanos had ever felt before. Ice ran in his veins. He almost shivered.

"You claim to be Death?"

"I am Death. Everything is Death. It lurks in our blood, creeps a few moments behind each breath, sits in our hands for us to use." He did not blink. "I am the Master of Death. I have been since long before you were born, and I will continue to be long after you are dust. Sorcerer Strange called to me across the void. He told me that you plan to steal my name. That you plan to kill half of the universe."

"You are nothing but a liar."

With a roar, Thanos thrust his hand forward. A burst of energy ripped from him, picking up tons of rock and hurling them forward. The man should've have been thrown hundreds of feet and left a broken tangle of limbs. Instead, he stood there, unmoving up as the storm of stone and concrete flew past him, avoiding him by some miracle.

It only ruffled his hair.

Narrowing his eyes, Thanos took a step back. It was time for him to fight seriously. He reached out with the power of the Soul Stone to tear the man's soul from his body, but found nothing. He sent another blast of power at the man, this time a focused beam of purple which turned him to dust.

The man spun on his heel and was gone before it could touch him.

"Are you done?" Death appeared behind Thanos, some twisted sense of amusement dancing in his green eyes. "My turn."

He brought his wand whipping around and Thanos found himself torn off of his feet, sent spinning backwards head over heel so fast that the air cracked. He smashed into the ground on his back with an almighty crunch. Before he had time to gather any thoughts in his aching head, he was in the air again. He crashed through the side of a building and then out the other side before coming to a skidding halt next to a burning car.

"I never enjoyed war." Death stood beside him again. "But I shall admit that there is a certain satisfaction to this." His eyes turned cruel. _"Crucio."_

A thousand swords of white-hot pain rammed themselves into each inch of Thanos' skin at once. He could not think—he could not breathe. He tore at himself with his hands but it did nothing to quell the pain. His limbs failed him as he tried to climb to his feet. All he found himself capable of doing was screaming.

"You deserve this, Thanos," Death said. "Do you see what you have done? How many innocents have you killed? How many orphans have you left behind?"

Thanos gasped as the spell ended, leaving its echoes and shadows to haunt him. It could have only been seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. When was the last time he had felt true pain?

Defiance written across his features, Thanos struggled to his knees. "N-not enough."

Anger flashed across Death's face and Thanos only just managed to roll out of the way of the obsidian spike which had impaled the ground where he had just been lying.

He shot to his feet and charged forward—he did not run from anyone. But as he reached out to grab Death in his massive hands, he found only fire. The red flames exploded at his touch, sending him flying backwards. Before he had hit the ground they had reformed into a dragon, soaring towards him.

Thanos slid out of its way, but it was too fast. At the last moment managed to throw his arms up and let them take the brunt of its fiery claws rather than his face. Six long, burning talons scored boiling cuts along his left arm. He growled in pain and lifted up his gauntleted arm, ready to reduce the dragon to nothing as it came around once more.

Red light flashed to his right and his arm was tumbling to the floor, all of a sudden. He watched it, almost expecting to follow it down. And then, numbly, he realised it had been severed.

With his remaining hand, he dove to grab at the gauntlet—only for it to be snatched away by an invisible force.

Death stood at the end of the street, holding the arm. He pulled the gauntlet off of it and let the rest thud against the floor. He studied it for a moment. "What a nice toy." It dissolved to nothing in his hands.

"No!" Thanos cried. "No!"

"Yes," Death said. He stalked towards Thanos with rage in his eyes. "I thought death was what you wanted— _balance._ " His words fell off into a hiss.

"I-"

"You are not part of the balance, Dark Lord." Death raised his dread wand. _"Avada Kedavra."_

The air rushed and green light flashed.


End file.
